


Defiance

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-12
Updated: 2001-11-12
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	1. Defiance

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

|   

**The Schedule - Defiance**

**by: Jenna**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance, General  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Series:** The Schedule **Number:** 12  
**Written:** Nov, 01  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never will be, but you knew that already.   
**Feedback:** Is a rare and precious commodity and always welcome. 

Note: Since ABS gave TWW about 4 weeks between May (Two Cathedrals) and early-October-ish, (Manchester) I feel entitled to do so as well. Obviously I can't really ret-con this to follow the show, so don't look too closely at the time frame 'cause there's nothing there but smoke and mirrors. ;-)

(Voiceover) Previously in 'The Schedule': The Setup, Week Five, Special Dispensation, A Memorable Event, Safe Harbor, Shared Dreams, Memorial, Memories, Dispositions, Depositions, Declarations [Wherein our Josh (undergoing grueling questioning from the Senate Judiciary Committee) as a pre-emptive measure announced that he had been diagnosed with PTSD.]

* * *

* * * Friday, Early October, Week 12, Washington, D.C. * * *

CNN started carrying the feed from C-Span the morning after Josh's press conference admitting to having been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. The dissection of White House Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman's psyche was excruciatingly embarrassing, painful to watch, strangely compelling, and 'must see TV'. Thursday's hearings before the Senate Judiciary Committee had been devoted to the events leading up to Dr. Keyworth's PTSD diagnosis the previous December. The Senate Republicans smelled blood and were gleefully circling for the kill. Josh had been a thorn in their sides for over three years --ever since Bartlet had emerged as the Democratic front-runner -- and this was their chance for a little retribution. Josh's every statement and deed since returning to work in November had become fair game for reinterpretation in light of the specter of PTSD.

Press Secretary CJ Cregg frowned at the television as she watched Josh being sliced-and-diced in the latest round of questioning, this time about his involvement in securing the loans for the Mexican bailout. How the Senators could link that to his PTSD or the President's MS was beyond her, but she was certain that they would find a way.

"Hey, CJ," Communications Director Toby Ziegler said wandering in with the newspaper in hand.

"They're tearing him apart," CJ said grimly.

Toby looked up at the television, a crease between his eyebrows as he frowned, "Yeah... Danny's article runs Sunday. That should take some of the pressure off."

"We can't count on public opinion forcing Congress to back off. Today: 'America's Sweethearts" tomorrow: buzzard bait."

"He's doing fine. He just has to hang in there. CNN's carrying the hearings just adds more sympathetic viewers to feel for him."

"Yeah, but what about what it's got to be doing to him?" CJ asked. "We can paint the PTSD as beyond his control -- something resulting from doing his job. But sooner or later, you know they'll bring up his previous therapy. How do we spin that?"

Toby shrugged, "They don't really want Josh. They want President Bartlet or Leo, they're using Josh to get to them."

"You think it'll work?"

"If public opinion doesn't force them to back off." Toby rubbed his forehead, "If it starts looking like they can force Josh to resign, then yeah, it'd work."

"The President would cut a deal?"

"Rather than lose Josh? The Republican's could order off the menu."

"Okay... can we all expect this treatment?"

"No. It wouldn't work. The President would regretfully accept our resignations... But don't take it personally, before the shooting it wouldn't have worked with Josh either, but now..."

"The President would look bad."

"The President would look very bad," Toby emphasized, "if Josh were forced to resign because he was shot while serving at the pleasure of a President who had lied to him."

"And the President's not looking so hot as it is."

"No. There's already some concern that he's left the staff and the Party hanging out to dry. How's Charlie going to afford legal representation? How will any of the senior staff ever get jobs again? How can Hoynes, or any Democrat, get elected if the President is forced out of office in disgrace?"

"How can anyone ever trust him again?" CJ added grimly.

"Yeah."

* * * Oval Office * * *

"You wanted to see me, Mr. President?"

"Donna, come in." President Bartlet walked around from his desk to the seating area and motioned to Donna Moss. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, sir," she replied sitting at attention on the edge of a wing chair.

"Donna, I wanted to ask... how's Josh holding up?"

He's fine... he's edgy, as you might expect. Being force to tell the world about his problems isn't easy."

"Yeah, tell me about it," the President said dryly.

"Sir? Do you think Danny's article will convince them to them back off?"

"I hope so. That and the CNN coverage. Josh was already becoming the media-darling from just the C-Span coverage. With the added exposure --and assuming he can keep his ego and temper in check-- we're hoping the committee will be the ones looking... you know..."

"Like sharks ripping a national hero apart in a vindictive feeding frenzy."

"Yeah... Look, the reason I asked you to stop by was that I'm going to exercise my Presidential privilege and pull Josh out of these hearing for a few days. That string of tropical storms has caused flooding along the Gulf Coast and I'm flying down tomorrow morning to survey the damage. I'm going to tell the Senate that I need Josh to accompany me --which is actually true-- and we're going to need an assistant along. Is there someone else who you'd trust to take over HR so that you can be my assistant for a while?"

"You mean for a few days or...?"

"Well, I know you'd rather work for Josh, but that's not possible right now, and I need someone who knows what's what... And it sounds like Jan Davis may not be coming back after her maternity leave... so unless you want to make the HR thing permanent..."

"No sir. I'd be happy to be your assistant until I can work for Josh again. I really do love working for Josh, but..."

"You'd rather marry him."

"Yes sir," she smiled radiantly.

"You're a wise-woman, Donna. Never put a job in front of your relationship. I wish I had been that wise..." the President replied, looking towards the door as Leo McGarry entering the Oval Office. "What's up?"

"They're asking about the previous therapy," Leo answered grimly as he went to the bookcase and turned the television on.

"Damn," the President murmured under his breath.

* * * Capitol Hill * * *

"You records indicate that prior to assuming the job of White House Deputy Chief of Staff that you had been seeing a therapist, Dr. Stanley Winters. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Josh replied with an impatient squirm.

"So, you had mental health issues prior to joining the Bartlet administration?"

"Senator Barnes!" Oliver Babish interrupted." Josh Lyman has always has been employed in high stress positions. It is not unusual that someone in such a position would occasionally need someone to confide in."

"The Deputy White House Chief of Staff needed someone to confide in every month for a year. And that was before he was diagnosed with a mental disorder. Not only that, but he has apparently received counseling since he was a child. This committee has a legitimate concern about the mental health of the people running the White House. Answer the question, Mr. Lyman, haven't you, in fact, had mental problems since before you developed PTSD?"

"No. I... I..." Josh looked up defiantly, his eyes flashing. "I developed PTSD as a child. The shooting brought it back."

"You have proof of this 'diagnosis', I assume?" the Senator smirked. "It sounds very convenient..."

"Madam Chair," Oliver interrupted, directing his complaint to the elderly southern Senator who headed the Committee. "Josh Lyman is willingly telling this committee about issues that would normally be protected by doctor-patient confidentiality. He should not be subjected to scorn and derision from this committee for doing so."

"I agree. Senator Barnes, you will refrain from commentary, if you please. Mr. Lyman, would you please explain your statement to this committee?"

Josh nodded then looked down at his hands to gather his thoughts before speaking. "I was nine. My older sister and I were home alone while my mother ran to the grocery store. A popcorn maker shorted out and... and the house caught fire. My sister --Joanie-- yelled to get out of the house, so I did." Josh's eyes glazed over as his memories drifted back to the event. He trailed off to silence his anguish apparent in a brief unguarded glimpse before his protective shields slid in place and he simply, quietly, stated, "She didn't make it."

"... Madam Chair," Oliver quietly stated into the silence of the hearing room." The President needs Josh to accompany him on a tour of the flood damage from the recent tropical storms. The White House requests that further questioning be postponed until the latter part of next week."

"Granted," she said pounding her gavel to end the day's session. "Any further questioning of Josh Lyman will be conducted at a later date."

"Come on, Josh." Oliver said leaning over Josh's shoulder and putting a hand on his back.

"Yeah," Josh stood up shaking himself out of his reverie.

* * * White House * * *

"Damn," the President reintegrated as Leo cut off the TV. "I want to see him when they get back. Donna, talk to Leo about someone to take over HR, I want you back in the West Wing. Then start packing, we're headed to Pensacola in the morning."

"Yes sir," Donna said standing up and following Leo to his office.

* * *

Oliver Babish gently pushed Josh into the limousine for the ride back to the White House. He'd known Josh for ten years and had played tennis with him regularly before Josh left Washington to join the Bartlet campaign. Josh's recommendation was one of the reasons Oliver had gotten the job of White House counsel in spite of his second, and longest, ex-wife being an old friend of the First Lady's. Elizabeth Bartlet used to baby-sit for them... He looked over at the Deputy Chief of Staff quietly staring out the window and wondered if Josh was able to play tennis again. When the hearings ended, he'd have to ask. It'd probably be good for Josh to play again.

"Josh... there'll probably be press waiting."

"Yeah," Josh agreed.

"If you need to see Dr. Friedman..."

"No. They'd crucify me if I go running off to my therapist 'cause I 'can't handle the pressure' of the hearings."

"Yeah."

"You said I'm going with the President?"

"Yeah, Leo told me at lunch."

"To use that if things got rough," Josh concluded.

Oliver shrugged, "The President needed to survey the flood damage anyway. It's good PR. And he could use you, so it's not a lie."

"Yeah."

"We're here," Oliver said as the limousine pulled up to the entrance.

They got out to an onslaught of press reporters and photographers snapping pictures and firing questions. Oliver and the Secret Service detail hustled Josh past the press and into the safety of the West Wing. The two men parted ways and Josh headed to Leo McGarry's office.

"Hey." Leo said casting a paternal eye up and down his deputy as if to survey the damage.

"Leo... You're buying me a break?"

"We're buying us all a break. Danny's article hits in the Sunday paper. Other newspapers'll pick it up by Tuesday. Couple that with the photo ops we expect during the flood tour and by the time you get back..."

"Maybe public opinion will be telling the committee to back off or risk alienating their own constituents."

"Yeah."

"I'd better tell Donna I'm leaving."

"She knows."

"She knows?"

"She's going as the President's new assistant. The President took your advice. He wants to see you." Leo shrugged towards the connecting door to the Oval Office.

"'Kay," Josh straightened up and walked over to knock on the door.

"Yeah!"

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Josh! Come in, come in," the president took off his reading glasses and waved Josh to the other wing chair. "Donna's agreed to help me out for a while."

"I'm glad, sir. She'll be happy to be back in the West Wing."

"How's your new temp working out?"

"I've barely met the latest one, sir. I leave for the Hill before she comes in and I don't get back until after she's gone. But my messages are in order, and the files I ask for are laid out for me, so I guess she's fine."

"We should have tried that three months ago. If they never meet you, maybe they'll stick around longer," The President smiled to reassure Josh that his gibe was good-natured.

Josh smiled and relaxed a bit, "Yes sir, there is that."

"Josh..." the President turned serious. "I just wanted to say how sorry I am about... you know... dragging you into all this. I should've told you guys up front. Hell, I might have won by a larger margin if I had... I just didn't think beyond my own interests. Ironic, isn't it? I ran on a platform of basic honesty and integrity. The guy who would stand up to the special interests and support the workers. And here I am letting my own workers get screwed over because of my own lack of honesty. Where's the integrity in that?"

Josh looked at the carpet and cleared his throat, "Mr. President... I can't say 'it's nothing' or that I don't hate being in this situation. I do. I wish to God that you had told us this back in New Hampshire at the start of-- We could have won, sir. I'm sure of it."

"Could we really?" the President said doubtfully. "I'm not so sure... I wanted to make a difference in America and that took becoming President. I figured I'd lose my campaign staff to Hoynes if I told you I had MS. You guys would take one look at the polling numbers -- see all the people who think it's fatal --who say they'd never vote for someone with a degenerative illness -- and run away as fast as you could. And I had finally started to believe, you know, those campaign speeches that Toby and Sam were writing for me. I was starting to think I could do this..."

The President watched his face as Josh, the pragmatic political operative, warred with Josh, the idealist who wore his heart on his sleeve and gave himself body and soul to the cause. The Josh who drank the Kool-aid, as that bald campaign staffer --Dean? Doug? Don? -- had put it.

Josh gave a self-deprecating shrug. "It wouldn't have been easy, that's for sure. But we all believed in you sir. We still believe in you. Bruno's good, if he's willing to run the kind of campaign you really want. If not, we'll find someone else... Or..." Josh paused.

"Or what?"

"Or I could resign and run it, if you and Leo think that would be better... maybe behind the scenes so I wouldn't be an embarrassment."

"No, Josh. No," the President emphasized shaking his head slowly from side to side. "I need you here as long as I'm here. And you have nothing to be ashamed about," the President signed. "I tried to convince myself I'd done nothing wrong. I told myself I was just trying to protect my privacy, but I hurt you. I hurt Abbey... Leo, Toby, and Sam. CJ and Charlie could face criminal charges over what they knew or suspected -- and all of you could spend the rest of your lives paying off legal bills... just 'cause you had faith in me. I'm the one who should be ashamed."

"Sir..." Josh choked out not knowing what to say. Tactless as he was he knew not to agree with the President's statement, but in all honesty, he did agree. The President had royally screwed them over by failing to disclose the MS.

"Oh, don't even try to be tactful Josh. It's not what I pay you for," he gave a half-smile. "I can see it in your face. How you manage to bluff the Senate and Congress is beyond me..."

"Yeah," Josh sheepishly gave the President an irrepressible devilishly-dimpled half-smile.

"Anyway, I'm sorry. Now go find Donna and get packed. The motorcade leaves for Andrews at 5:00 AM."

"That late?"

"Funny boy. Go."

* * * Saturday, Week 12, Pensacola Naval Air Station, Florida * * *

The salt breeze was whipping in off the Gulf when the President disembarked Air Force One on the tarmac at Pensacola Naval Air Station. He was dressed in khaki Dockers and a navy blue Air Force One windbreaker, the requisite outfit for a President of the United States on a tour of a natural disaster area. His hair whipped in the wind creating a picture-perfect John Kennedy-esque moment for the press. Josh Lyman, in contrast, looked like the quintessential construction worker in faded jeans, work boots, and a New York Mets ball cap. His concession to formality was a button-down dress shirt, albeit with the sleeves rolled up. If he weren't so well known, no one would pick him out of a line-up as being a top Presidential aide.

"Mr. President, it's an honor to meet you," Station Commander David McFarland said reaching out to shake the President's proffered hand. "This is Regional FEMA Director Roger Corland, he'll be conducting the dog-and-pony show.

"Josh Lyman," Josh stated introducing himself as he shook hands with the two men. "You probably recognize C.J. Cregg. These are the President's assistants, Donna Moss and Charlie Young."

The Station Commander and FEMA Director shook hands with the two women in turn and nodded to Charlie who had stayed in the background. The men politely refrained from commenting on their knowledge of Josh from the televised hearings or that Ms. Moss was his fiancée.

"Sir," the Station Commander addressed the President, "we've got another squall due in this afternoon... so if it's okay with you, we'd like to get in the air as soon as possible."

"Lead the way," the President gestured.

After a brief stop by the Officer's Club to freshen up and receive a briefing on the day's activities, the presidential party and the accompanying gaggle of press were shepherded aboard a couple of transport helicopters for a tour of the flood-ravaged Florida-Alabama coastal area. The sky was bright blue with puffy white clouds giving no hint of the series of tropical storms that had left the creeks and rivers flowing out of their banks. The coast itself sustained little flood damage and as the helicopters flew along the glistening white sugar-sand beaches of Perdido Key, Florida and into Orange Beach, and Gulf Shores, Alabama, the staff wondered where the flooding was.

Trees and power lines had been blown down and windows were missing in the high-rise condominiums and hotels that lined the beaches of the "Redneck Riviera". Curtains were billowing in the breeze and metal building sheeting was strewn around as a testament to the near-hurricane force winds. Sand covered Highway 182 along the beachfront and snags of debris marked the high-water line from the storm surge. The helicopters landed at Orange Beach to allow the President to see up close the damage caused by the high winds and storm surge.

"Imagine what this would look like if it'd been a hurricane," the President quietly remarked.

"None of this was here when Frederick came through in '79. Most of the development then was west of the park... Just beach houses, tourist shops, and hotels in Gulf Shores then. Now," the FEMA Director pointed to the west where the high-rises abruptly stopped and Gulf State Park began, "the park's the only place that isn't wall-to-wall buildings. I'd never wish for a hurricane, but..."

"Yeah... Josh," the President called over to Josh and Donna who had walked closer to the pounding surf, "remind me to revisit the coastal development issue."

"Yes sir," Josh said. He turned to look back at the waves one last time and put his arm around Donna as they turned to walk back to the President.

Flying inland from Gulf Shores the flooding became apparent in the backed-up waterways that were slowly draining to the ocean. The presidential party made another stop in Bay Minette to visit a Red Cross shelter set up in the high school gym for all the people displaced by the flooding. They also startled the middle-aged couple running the local ma-and-pa diner when the Presidential party dropped in for some down-home Southern cooking. Donna gave Josh her cornbread in exchange for his fried okra and they split a slice of pecan pie.

From Bay Minette, they flew eastward crisscrossing the Alabama-Florida state line several times before cutting north to Elba, Alabama where a desperate effort was underway to shore up the levee. The President shook hands with the townsfolk who were standing in ankle-deep water while working on the sandbag lines and watching the Pea River churn by at eye level over the line of sandbags.

"It's just a matter of time before the levee goes, but we've gotta try. The handsome young black mayor explained. "If we go under it'll be the third time this decade. We need help, Mr. President."

The president looked into the exhausted eyes of the mayor, who looked too young to be so burdened with worries, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to be announcing federal disaster relief funding at a press conference this afternoon."

"Mr. Lyman," the lieutenant piloting the helicopter came up to Josh as he stood on the fringes of the group surrounding the president. "The weather's starting to turn, we're going to have to head back to the NAS shortly. If the President wants to stop in Enterprise to see the monument to the boll weevil we'd better leave soon."

"Okay, I'll let the President know. I'm sure he won't want to miss that," Josh replied wryly.

"The monument to the boll weevil?" Donna asked.

"Yeah. You missed that? I'd ask him about it on the flight back. He'll keep you entertained for hours," Josh smiled devilishly to indicate that if Donna knew what was good for her she'd never mention the words 'boll' or 'weevil' within earshot of the president.

CJ came up to Donna as Josh went to pass the message to the president.

"Boll weevil?" Donna asked.

CJ rolled her eyes. "It was at lunch. You'd gone to the ladies room and I wish to god I'd left too. "Apparently in the early 1900s, all the farmers for miles around were growing cotton. The boll weevil migrated up from Mexico and it," she waved her hand around in the air, "loves, you know, cotton. Naturally, it ate the cotton crop and ruined the farmers. Anyway, one bright guy decided to try raising peanuts. So by the boll weevil destroying the cotton crop, it convinced the farmers to diversify their crops --hence..."

"A monument to the boll weevil. And this is worth a stop?"

"The President thinks so. There's a Red Cross shelter or something there too..." she continued waving her hand. "But he wants to see the bug."

"Okay..."

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	2. Defiance 2

|   

**The Schedule - Defiance**

**by: Jenna**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance, General  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Series:** The Schedule **Number:** 12  
**Written:** Nov, 01  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never will be, but you knew that already.   
**Feedback:** Is a rare and precious commodity and always welcome. 

Chapter 2 

* * * Saturday, Week 12, Early October, Enterprise, Alabama * * *

The Presidential party flew on to Enterprise and admired the statue of the woman holding up a giant bug.

"You know, Josh, this is the only monument to a pest in the world," the President stated kicking into professorial mode.

"Well, I don't know about that, sir. I can think of a few Republicans who've had monuments dedicated to them..."

The president looked up, "Well, Josh, you've got me there. You must be feeling pretty frisky today if you're upstaging the leader of the free world."

"Uh..."

"We can fix that."

"Yes sir," Josh gulped.

"That's not life-size is it?" CJ asked eying the head-sized bug warily. "Those things aren't running around... you know... loose."

"No, CJ, the boll weevil is between 3 and 5 millimeters long. Adult boll weevils only live about 6 or 7 weeks, and they go through 5 to 10 generations a year."

"That's... fascinating, sir." As the president and the FEMA Director walked across the street to the Red Cross shelter, CJ muttered to Josh, "Kill me, kill me now."

"Remember the time he kept me in the Oval 'til 2:00 A.M. talking about National Parks?"

"Yeah?"

"You laughed. You mocked me."

"So? I always mock you."

"Payback's a bitch."

"Josh! You wouldn't dare!"

"Prepare to hear everything there is to know about boll weevils and the cotton economy of the south in the early 1900s, my friend," Josh grinned at her as he walked across the street to where Donna and Charlie were standing with the president.

CJ turned to the statue of the woman in the flowing white robes holding the boll weevil on a serving tray above her head and said. "You think you've got problems. I'm about to murder the President and Deputy Chief of Staff. Of course, a jury'll probably let me off with 5 to 10, you have to hold a bug over your head for all time..." She sighed and crossed the street.

* * *

"Sir," the lieutenant quietly got Josh's attention. The squall's been upgraded to a tropical storm and its heading towards Pensacola. Weather Service is predicting it may be a Category 1 hurricane when it makes landfall tonight or tomorrow morning. Air Force One is being flown to Maxwell/Gunter."

"That's Montgomery?"

"Yes, sir."

"What're you guys recommending?"

"The wind's kicked-up and we're loosing visibility. We're gonna be grounded if we wait much longer. This bird's a tour bus. She isn't designed for flying in that kind of weather. We can't get back to Pensacola."

"Yeah."

"Ft. Rucker is just outside town. We can fly up there for the night."

Secret Service agent Marcus Green who was standing nearby volunteered, "We can drive there if we need to."

By the time Josh told the President and he wrapped up his tour, the winds were too high for the choppers to safely fly --not with the President of the United States as their cargo, at any rate. The pilots would fly, but the President would travel the short distance by ground transportation. The limousines from the local funeral home and a church bus were drafted into service to transport the presidential party the 9 miles to the Army Aviation (AKA learn how to fly attack helicopters) School in Ft. Rucker. By the time they started out, it was dark and the rain had started.

The Major General in command of Ft. Rucker had all of 30 minutes to prepare for the arrival of the President's party. Fortunately, his fishing buddy the Police Chief had called ahead and given him a 15-minute head start before two Secret Service agents showed up. Also, fortunate, was the fact that he was a career Army officer and was always prepared for the unexpected. He made sure that distinguished visitor's quarters at the Post Guest House were prepared for the President, his immediate staff, the Navy pilots, and Secret Service agents. The 20 assorted reporters and photographers who could make do in the dormitories for the enlisted soldiers. The Officer's Club was notified that the President was on his way and they'd better get hopping if they wanted to make everyone proud. The cooks scrambled up the ingredients for their most impressive dishes for an impromptu banquet. Grunts rushed around Post emptying trashcans and making sure everything was up for an inspection by the Commander in Chief. Spotless guest rooms were dusted and bedding and towels frantically checked and double-checked.

The presidential party descended on the Post and was escorted to the Officer's Club where they met the commander. The army chefs outdid themselves and the President was appropriately effusive in his praise. The Major General apologized to the President for their lack of entertainment and told him about their murder mystery dinner theater. The President expressed his sincere regret at missing that. His staffers expressed their not-so-sincere regret.

After dinner, Charlie, CJ, Josh, and Donna made a trip to the Post Exchange store to buy a few overnight necessities since they were stranded without their luggage. Charlie was shopping for two, of course. Most of the press and FEMA Director had learned from experience to always be prepared for the inevitable occurrence of being stranded overnight with no luggage and were carrying their 'survival kits'.

Charlie headed off to the suite of rooms he was sharing with the President and a couple of Secret Service agents. Josh walked with CJ and Donna down the hallway to the quarters that had been assigned to the two women. Josh would be down the hall with the FEMA director and a couple more agents.

Josh stood awkwardly at the door to the women's quarters as CJ unlocked the door.

"CJ..." he whined in a softly pleading tone.

CJ was a sucker for that tone coupled with the sad puppy dog eyes.

"Oh, all right! A half-hour. I will stand around... out here... in the hallway... looking like a complete idiot for a half-hour while you --"

"Thanks, CJ," he flashed his killer smile.

"You owe me, buddy-boy!"

"Here, CJ, reading material." Donna said handing CJ the Cosmo she'd bought. "I'll take your sack."

"Thanks. Great," she said to the closed door. "Now I can stand around looking like an idiot reading Cosmo..."

* * *

About 20 minutes later the President came into the Guest House (which looked very much like a motel to CJ) with his secret service escort.

"CJ," the President called out seeing her standing in the hallway. "Why are you hanging around out here?"

"Josh is visiting Donna."

"Ah..." the President said. "Well, let's just see what they're up to, shall we?"

"Mr. President, sir, they have another 10 minutes."

"That's okay, they'd better get used to it... for when they have kids," he made as if to barge into the quarters CJ was sharing with Donna.

"Mr. President!" CJ jumped between the president and the door.

"CJ..." the President looked at her as if to ask what she was thinking, that he'd never really do that.

"You got me, sir. Didn't you?"

"I really did. You should trust me better than that."

"Yes sir," CJ responded stone-faced, her thoughts going to events that had, in fact, shaken her trust in the President.

"CJ," the President said softly, reading her face. "I really am sorry. I didn't think what could happen. I didn't want to think about it at all. Abbey says I was in denial."

"Yes sir."

The president sighed as he reached out to squeeze her arm. He still had a long way to go to win back the trust and camaraderie of his staff. Things might never get back to the closeness of the days before the 'big lie' came out. He'd managed to keep CJ on, but he wasn't sure for how long. Her loyalty seemed more to her friends and her sense of duty than to him. The guys, including Leo, had been pissed as hell and desperate to buy a win -- any win -- through sheer force of will. Subpoenas, depositions, and preliminary hearings had them all on edge. The last few days or so of Josh being raked over the coals for the PTSD had the staff seething with barely suppressed fury --at the Senate for doing it, and at him for creating the situation in the first place.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes sir. Good night, sir."

The president sighed again as he walked down the hall flanked by the Secret Serve agents who'd waited discreetly at a distance. He had a long way to go yet.

* * *

Donna nibbled on Josh's ear.

"Donna, seriously, you're gonna have to stop that. I have to be able to leave here in a few minutes and walk down the hall into a room with the Regional FEMA Director and two Secret Service Agents. I can't be... you know..."

"Sporting a--"

"Donna! You're not helping."

"I thought I was responsible..."

"Let's change the subject."

"Okay," she slid off him and laid her head on his chest. "So what do you want to talk about?"

"I dunno... who's going to take over HR with you moving to the Oval?"

"Well Beth, who was Jan's assistant, is back from maternity leave part-time now and Helen, who was too new when Jan left, can manage the rest of the time."

"Is there something in the water over there? Should the EPA investigate? I'm just sayin' maybe you should bottle some of that water for later--"

"Josh! Seriously, I think Beth and Jan should just do a job-share thing. But, that's their business. I just know I don't want to run HR, so if the President's offering..."

"You'll take it. Is Helen the one who screwed up and filed my claim with the regular insurance instead of Workers Comp?"

"No that was her predecessor. We're still fixing her mess-ups. And what did I tell you?"

"Um... I should stick to running the government and let you handle insurance companies?"

"One phone call, Josh. I could have handled it with one phone call if you hadn't tried to take care of it yourself. And having Sam threaten to sue them! It's a wonder they aren't still trying to make you pay them the $50,000. It took me three months to get it straightened out."

Josh pulled her tight, "I'm glad you did. I'd hate to get married $50,000 in debt."

"Um..." she snuggled. "That's our kid's college fund."

He sighed, "Or a month's worth of legal bills..."

"Now I'm depressed."

"And I don't have to worry about walking down the hallway."

* * * Sunday, Week 13, Ft. Rucker, Alabama * * *

Sunday morning Tropical Storm Garrick briefly became Hurricane Garrick before it made landfall along the Florida panhandle just east of Pensacola. The storm tracked though southeast Alabama to the north of Ft. Rucker and into the Columbus, Georgia area throughout Sunday. The presidential party stayed put at Ft. Rucker and would wait until Monday to make the two-hour drive to Maxwell AFB. The President, who always preferred motorcades to helicopters, said he was tired of the noisy, smelly things and that he wanted to see the countryside from the ground as God intended.

The President and his staff went to a non-denominational (AKA Christian with a strong Baptist slant) Post church service on Sunday morning. Going to Christian church services was something that the non-observant, nominally-Jewish Josh had long since gotten used to as part of the protocol requirements of his job in government.

Before the fire killed his older sister, his Christian grandmother used to take them to Christmas Mass saying that her only grandchildren should be exposed to their mother's heritage as well as their father's and teasingly demanding equal time with the children since Noah's father insisted they go to synagogue on Jewish holy days. His grandfather had lived with them when he was little, but the years of abuse at the hands of the Nazis had taken their toll and he had passed away six months before the fire killed Joanie. After the fire his grandmother hadn't taken him to Christmas Mass anymore. He had decided that he had only been invited because of Joanie and that his grandmother blamed him for Joanie's death. No amount of explanation that his grandmother just didn't have the heart to renew the tradition without Joanie could convince young Josh that his grandmother didn't blame him. He never again felt the closeness to her that he had felt on those late-night Christmas Eve visits to the candlelit cathedral listening to the music as his grandmother wrapped an arm wrapped around each precious grandchild.

Josh and the President spent the afternoon with the Regional FEMA Director and on a conference call with the National FEMA Director and Leo McGarry going over plans for disaster assistance, and following reports on the latest storm damage. CJ rescheduled the press conference that had been set for the previous evening in Pensacola for Monday evening in Montgomery. Donna and Charlie came and went helping CJ with the press when not needed by the president or Josh.

About 4:00 P.M. CJ, with Donna's assistance, organized a bowling tournament pitting the print-media press members against the television news media, the winning team to get a $2.00 trophy and a picture with the president. With the lack of other entertainment options for the press corps on a Sunday afternoon stranded in the middle of a tropical storm on an army post in south Alabama, the success of the tournament was ensured. The church bus and funeral home limos having returned after dropping the presidential party off the previous night, CJ, Donna, and the press corps were transported to the post bowling alley in an army bus. The "Hacks' slaughtered the 'Talking Heads' --It was Donna's idea that they get to name each other's team -- and the President and Josh arrived, as planned, in time to take the promised photograph.

The press was again packed off to the enlisted dining facility and the president's party had another excellent meal at the Officer's Club. The Ft. Rucker Mystery Dinner Theater Troup wasn't due to start their fall show for another few days but since the President had expressed regret at missing it, they rushed into production and presented the President with a command performance. The flub-ups made it even more amusing and the President got into the act more than once. By the end of the evening the Officers and the President's staff had bonded in their shared amusement over the play and their relief that the brief life of Hurricane Garrick had caused no more damage than it had.

The floodwaters from Garrick caused the expected to happen and the levee failed at Elba. The president sighed at hearing the news and said they would go see the damage in the morning before driving up to Montgomery.

Monday morning the rains had tapered off to an intermittent drizzle. The helicopters were employed to carry the President out to fly over the flooded downtown of Elba since there was really no other good way to see the damage. The helicopters returned to Ft. Rucker to drop the President off before heading back to Pensacola NAS. Upon their return, the limousines and SUVs hired out of Dothan were ready to take the President to Montgomery.

Donna rode in the press bus with CJ, so that they could discuss wedding plans. Josh and Charlie rode in the limousine with the President and Roger Corland, the FEMA director. He was out of the Atlanta office and would fly with them aboard Air Force One to their next stop along the Southern Atlantic Coast to view the damage in Georgia and South Carolina. The President's motorcade was driving up Highway 167 to Troy to pick up 231, which would take them into Montgomery. They were only about 20-minutes north of Ft. Rucker, when they came to a halt.

"What's up?" the President asked the soldier acting as their driver.

"I can't tell from here, sir. Looks like the road's blocked."

"Highway Patrol says the road's flooded," the secret service agent confirmed, taking his hand away from his earpiece.

"I'll see what's happening," Josh said getting out of the limousine.

"Hang-on, I'm coming too," Charlie said.

The two men got out of the limo and walked past the SUV the secret service had been riding in and up to the patrol car of the state trooper who was providing them an escort to Montgomery. The secret service agents were looking around suspiciously as if this were a potential ambush by the River Gods and Forest Nymphs. The trooper was on the radio calmly telling his dispatcher that Whitewater Creek had come over the road.

After he finished telling dispatch to send highway department crews out to barricade the road, the trooper explained to Josh and Charlie, "this is a marshy area, but usually the roadbed's high enough the water doesn't come over. We've just had too much too quick for the creek to handle."

"Yeah," Josh agreed absently staring off down the two-lane highway past the flooded section.

"So what do we do now?" Charlie asked.

"Well, someone needs to stay here to watch the road until the highway department gets here with the barricades, but I can give you directions to cut over Jack and pick up 87--"

"Look!" Josh yelled interrupting the trooper's directions and pointing to a pickup truck about 200 feet away and rapidly approaching the flooded highway from the other direction. He's gonna try and drive through!"

The trooper rushed to the water and started waving his arms and yelling to catch the driver's attention. Josh and Charlie followed along with several members of the press who'd gotten out to stretch their legs and take a few photographs of the cause for the presidential delay. The news cameras were hastily extracted from their cases as the trooper along with Josh and Charlie tried to will the pickup truck driver to not try to drive through the flooded stretch of road. The pickup got about halfway before its engine died. They could see the couple in the truck and tell there was a child in the front seat between them. The man tried to start the stalled truck, but it wasn't going to happen. The truck started to shift from the current.

The trooper ran back to his patrol car and called his dispatcher. They were going to have to attempt a water rescue and he needed backup -- now! CJ and Donna had gotten out of the bus when they heard the yelling. The trooper drafted CJ to stay on the radio with the dispatcher and keep her informed. Donna went back to the limo to tell the President and FEMA director what was happening.

Marcus Green and another agent stripped off their coats and weapons and handed them over to the other agents who would remain with the President. They went up to the trooper and volunteered their assistance. Josh and Charlie and a couple of the more fit members of the press also prepared to get involved if their help was needed. The secret service was in rented vehicles and didn't have any equipment. The trooper just had a standard-issue 100-foot rope.

The pickup started flooding and Josh could see that the woman and child, a girl about 7 or 8 years old, were screaming in terror. The mother rolled down her window and climbed out, scooting from the cab into the bed of the truck, then pulling her daughter out behind her. The man gave up on restarting the truck and joined them. The trooper got the rope and tied one end to a utility pole. He tried to throw the rope to the man in the truck, but it fell short. He pulled the rope back in and tried again but, again, it fell short. The truck started moving, the back end shifted around sideways. The family held on desperately to the cab of the truck as the water inched higher in its bid to claim the truck.

Marcus yelled to the trooper, "I can try and take the rope out there and secure the truck before it floats."

"We've got to do something," he replied. "Help won't be here for another 10 or 15 minutes. They won't last that long."

Marcus tied the other end of the rope around his waist and ventured into the floodwaters. By 20 feet in the current was so strong that he had trouble moving. Whenever he attempted to lift his foot, the force of the current would unbalance him and he would almost fall. Rather than risk being swept away he slowly shifted his feet forward keeping in contact with the pavement. He knew the water wasn't deep enough to attempt to swim. The trooper said it was probably no more than two feet at the most. The problem for him was, it was moving. The problem for the pickup truck was that one foot of water was enough to float a car and it didn't take much more than that for a pickup.

Marcus managed to make his way to the stranded family. He removed the rope from his waist and tied it to the frame of the truck. It wouldn't keep the truck from floating downstream if it started to go, but he was hoping the truck would stay put long enough for the four of them to make it to safety.

"Hi, what's your name?" Marcus asked the little girl in an attempt to calm her fears by making things seem normal.

"Jessica," she replied in a small scared voice.

"Well, Jessica, I'm Marcus, and I work for the President of the United States, and he wants me to take you to visit him. He's in that fancy black car over there. You think you can hold onto me really, really tight and we can go see the President?"

She nodded and put her arms around his neck almost strangling him. "Good girl," he said lifting her out of the truck so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He turned to her parents and asked; "You think you guys can make it across by just holding onto the rope and pulling yourselves across? Try to keep your feet in contact with the pavement so you don't lose your balance. If the truck goes, try to hang onto the rope."

The young couple gave frightened nods and the man helped steady his wife as she followed him over the side of the truck and into the 15-inch deep water.

"It's a little deeper through here. Careful, the current's picking up," Marcus shouted back to the couple slowly inching along the rope behind him.

Marcus and the child were about 30 feet out when the pickup started floating... it shifted a few feet and momentarily stopped. The trooper and the other agent started out into the water to help Marcus, telling Josh and Charlie to stay put. They didn't want to be rescuing any Presidential aides today.

The other agent made it to Marcus and grabbed Jessica. Marcus started back to assist the young couple who were slowly inching along when the truck started floating with the current. They were all knocked off their feet and into the water by the jerk of the rope. Marcus managed to hang onto the rope and grabbed at the woman in time to keep her from being carried away by the current. Her husband got a hand on her as well and they clung desperately to the rope. The truck had been carried off the road, and they were now about 50 feet downstream and in deep water.

Josh charged into the water to help the agent carrying Jessica. Charlie and a couple of reporters ran along the edge of the floodwaters to help the state trooper who had lost the rope and been swept downstream. He was about 100 feet downstream trying to grab onto something and pull himself out of the water. Josh was swept off his feet by the now-swift current, but managed to keep hold of the rope. He regained his footing as the agent struggled to hold onto both the rope and the terrified child. He was bouncing in the swift current as if he were trying to water ski on his rear. He struggled to stand but between the child and the current he was not able to do so. Josh made it out to him and help him to stand as he took Jessica. The hysterical child grabbed onto Josh, clutching at his ripped-open shirt and tank-top undershirt with her left hand. Her right arm circled his neck, and she rode on his left hip to the safety of dry land.

Donna, who had been standing with the president and FEMA director watching terrified as Josh had dashed into the water, took the child. Josh turned back to help the exhausted agent from the water. With the rope still tied to the truck there was no way to pull in Marcus and the young couple unless the force of the current caused the rope to break... But if they were on the wrong side of that break...

It was then that the rescue helicopter showed up, along with the paramedics and several more state troopers in their patrol cars. Josh breathed a sigh of relief as he and the agent rushed downstream to where Charlie was helping the battered trooper out of the water. Marcus and the couple were too far out for them to reach. They were still hanging onto the rope, but the water kept splashing over their heads. They were getting weaker. The rescue helicopter lined up over the three people still trapped in the water. A line with a harness was dropped just upstream. Marcus managed to grab it. They got the woman into the harness and the chopper carried her over to the edge of the stream where, by now, the paramedics were waiting with the Josh and the others. The chopper went back and repeated the procedure. Finally all three were safely back on dry ground: batter, waterlogged, and suffering from mild hypothermia.

Donna came up and wrapped a blanket around Josh. CJ handed blankets to Charlie and the two wet reporters, promising to give the two press members extra milk and cookies for being such good guys and becoming part of the story. The troopers were doing the same for the others, while the paramedics split their efforts between the trooper, who had broken his wrist in his ordeal, Marcus, and the young couple.

"Where's the girl?" Josh asked Donna as she adjusted the blanket and tucked his fingers under a fold of the cloth.

"She's in the limo with the President. He says he's had a lot of practice taking care of frightened little girls."

Josh nodded and they walked over to the troopers and paramedics to find out where the injured would be taken and to assure the girl's parents that she was in the best of hands. With the highway closed northward, it was easier to take them back south to Enterprise. Marcus said that he'd be fine and that he'd rather continue with the motorcade to Montgomery. Josh wasn't too sure they'd drive another hour and a half to Maxwell AFB with half a dozen of their party now sopping wet. The secret service agents agreed that it was better to return to Ft. Rucker and then draft a couple of army transport helicopters take them up to Maxwell after they'd had a chance to dry out and have Marcus looked over.

Josh and Donna returned to the limousine to find the President telling knock-knock jokes with the little girl. The president agreed with the plan to return to Ft. Rucker and then fly up to Montgomery.

The return trip to Ft. Rucker and their subsequent flight to Maxwell Air Force Base, or Maxwell/Gunter as it was being called these days, were uneventful. The president's announcement of the disaster assistance funding was upstaged though by the footage of the dramatic rescue of the family by the President's Deputy Chief of Staff. Josh valiantly explained again and again that he had just been there at the end to pull the child out of the water. The real heroes had been the secret service agents and the state trooper. They had the videotape though, showing him charging into the water to the agent and the child, of being swept off his feet and heroically struggling to regain his footing and reach the child. Of him helping the child and the agent out of the water and later helping Marcus out of the harness. Of the battered agent leaning on Josh as he was helped to sit down and wait his turn while the paramedics tended the rescued couple.

The press didn't care how much he protested that he hadn't done anything. He was Josh Lyman, the President's top aide, half of 'America's Sweetheart's' -- the man being sliced and diced by the Senate Republicans because he had developed post-traumatic stress disorder after being shot. The reminder was there in the video as clear as day. The photo made the cover of that week's Time -- Josh, soaked to the bone carrying the girl out of the water, her hand clutching his shirt and undershirt, stretching it down and away, exposing the surgical scar down the middle of his chest.

The phones of the Senators on the Judiciary Committee began ringing that night. By Tuesday Danny's article on Josh and Donna and his PTSD had been picked up in newspapers nationwide and the Senate phones were ringing nonstop. Their Internet servers were having trouble handling the volume of emails being sent to the Senate. The Senate Republicans might still manage to impeach President Bartlet, but public opinion had spoken loud and clear. Back off Josh Lyman or face the wrath of the American people. The President smiled at being upstaged.

* * *

The End

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